


A Cabin Hideaway

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Greg, Bottom Mycroft, Cabins, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Top Greg, Top Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1987350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft takes Greg out to a cabin for some alone time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Greg frowned as he pulled up to a quiet parking lot and found Mycroft waiting next to his usual black car. He parked and got out. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Gregory, please, get in.” Mycroft was as imperious as ever, offering no other explanation.

At least this time, he seemed to be giving Greg a choice.

Sighing a bit, Greg got in and scooted across the back seat. Mycroft joined him and the car started. The windows were shaded so Greg had no idea where they were going. Fear tickled his spine. But this was _Mycroft_. While fear was probably not an unreasonable reaction to have with Mycroft Holmes, he knew this man. They’d been lovers for over a year now. And he always kept careful control until they were safely ensconced in a bedroom. And sometimes even then,, Greg had to coax him out of his shell, spending an what seemed like an hour slowly licking him open or sucking his cock until his lover was a moaning, writhing mess. If he was very lucky or had done particularly well, Mycroft would beg for his cock.

Just thinking about it made Greg have to adjust his trousers. Mycroft, of course, did not miss the movement. He didn’t turn his gaze towards Greg, but his hand slid across the seat and over his thigh until he could touch the growing bulge. Greg was surprised, but he leaned back and let Mycroft do what he wanted, biting back a moan as he wasn’t sure that Mycroft wanted the driver to know exactly what they were doing back here.

Greg reached over and rested his hand on Mycroft’s thigh, squeezing it. He wasn’t certain if he was allowed to touch in return, so he settled for stroking the leg, feeling the fine material under his hands.

They drove on in silence for what felt like ages, Greg getting harder by the moment with those elegant fingers outlining his cock. He bit his lip more, occasionally squeezing his lover’s thigh, but mostly just trying to enjoy the unusual semi-public display.

Finally they stopped and Mycroft withdrew his hand a moment before the driver got his door. Greg blinked as he stepped outside. It had started snowing lightly, but his eyes were fixed on the tidy cabin with smoke curling out of the chimney.

Without speaking, Mycroft walked to the door and opened it. Greg trailed behind and gaped a bit at the beautiful room they stepped into. It was just as cozy as the outside appeared, but expensively appointed. A fire crackled in the large hearth with a bearskin rug in front of it. Plush leather chairs faced the fire with an end table with horn legs by each one. High up on the wall the head of a magnificent stag seemed to watch over the place. There were doors, currently closed and a steaming pot of tea by one of the chairs.

Mycroft set his umbrella by the door and took off his coat before heading for the chair next to the tea. Greg took off his own and sat in the next chair while Mycroft poured. They kept their silence as they both sipped their tea. Relaxing more into the chair, Greg toed off his  shoes and slouched, sprawling a bit, watching the fire. Next to him Mycroft remained ramrod straight, as if he were drinking tea with the queen, not in some cabin with his semi-kidnapped lover. Greg knew his schedule had been cleared for him. Mycroft didn’t do this often; he knew how Greg felt about that. But perhaps something had happened in his work and he simply needed to get away from London for a while.

Finishing his tea, Mycroft set the cup back on it’s saucer. He looked at the fire another moment, then got up, crossed to Greg and sunk to his knees on the rug, looking up at him. Greg’s breath caught at those blue eyes turned dark. That intense focus now only on him.

His move, Greg knew. Setting aside his own cup, he loosened his belt and undid his trousers and pushed them and his pants down. He kept his eyes fixed on Mycroft, even as his breath came short, sounding loud in his own ears. His erection had flagged a bit with the cold and the tea, but it was back to full force now as he slid down a little further in the chair and offered it to his lover.

Still with his eyes fixed on Greg’s, Mycroft leaned in and licked it root to tip. Greg gripped the arms of the chair, wanting to watch, but eyes sliding closed at the feeling of that familiar tongue.

A moan escaped Greg's lips as Mycroft swallowed him down, cock hitting the back of his throat. Greg resisted the urge to buck into his mouth, keeping his eyes screwed tightly shut. His lover knew exactly what he liked and worked him over with the same precision as he did everything else.

Finally, just before Greg started thrusting desperately, Mycroft pulled off. Greg opened his eyes to see him unbuttoning his waistcoat, face flushed and and lips swollen. Greg leaned forward and pulled the tie loose before starting on his own clothes.

Somehow Mycroft finished first, laying back on the rug and idly stroking himself. He was gorgeous in the firelight, all pale skin and freckles, with a dusting of auburn hair. Finishing, Greg took his place between his knees, stealing a kiss before spreading his thighs a little more, he licked down the perineum before dragging his tongue along Mycroft's entrance.

Mycroft moaned and rocked back to give him better access. Greg went to work, teasing, drawing out more soft noises until finally he pushed his tongue past the tight ring of muscle. He felt the moment Mycroft gave up control, writhing and crying out, every few words his name. _Gregory. Gregory_. It was a litany that drove him on, plundering his lover, holding his thighs open, perhaps bruising, but neither of them would care right now.

Greg pulled off, wiping his mouth, looking down at the wreck before him. Mycroft's hair had fallen loose, body covered in a sheen of sweat, cock full and proud. With a shaking hand he pointed at which door was the bathroom.

Greg got up and padded over. He quickly cleaned his mouth, noticing it was either his own toothbrush or one identical to it. There was lube on the counter and he grabbed it, heading back to his lover, still on his back and trying to get his breath back under control.

 _None of that_. Greg dropped down and kissed him, coating his fingers and pressing two inside. Mycroft cried out against his lips, arching and spreading himself wide. Greg didn't need a second invitation. He pulled out his fingers and pushed in his cock, slowly sinking in.

Mycroft moaned again, fingers grabbing at his shoulders, legs hooking around his waist, trying to pull him deeper. Greg nipped his lower lip as he seated himself fully, reveling in the tightness and the heat.

Slowly he started thrusting, raising his head to watch his lover’s face. Mycroft always kept such careful control, to see the pleasure washing over his face now with the flickering firelight was like being privy to an especially beautiful performance. Something only for him. And really this wasn’t performance, this was raw, this was need and hot desire destroying a cold mask. He picked up speed, pinning Mycroft’s wrists with one hand, just above his head. He tossed his head and gave another low cry, trying to meet his thrusts.

With his free hand, Greg started to stroke Mycroft’s cock. It didn’t take much time at all for him to come, quietly like usual, panting as his cock pulsed across his stomach. Greg let go and planted his hands on either side of Mycroft’s shoulders, fucking him through it, hard and deep and so close himself until he moaned and came, filling his lover.

They stayed like that a few moments, until Greg’s shaking arms gave out and he half-collapsed onto Mycroft’s sticky body. Mycroft hummed softly and ran his fingers through Greg’s short hair, kissing his forehead.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

They stayed in front of the fire for a while. Greg wondered what had happened. Mycroft was holding him a little tighter than usual, ignoring the sticky mess between them. Leaning up, Greg kissed him gently. “I’ll go run us a bath, okay?”

Mycroft nodded, watching him. Greg stole another kiss and headed for the bathroom, turning on the water to almost scalding, just the way they both liked it. At least it was a huge tub. Mycroft came in with two glasses and a bottle of wine. He poured as Greg minded the tub, letting Greg get in first before passing him a glass, then stepping in himself. Greg settled Mycroft against his chest and kissed his hair before sipping his drink. They stayed like that until the wine was half finished and the water started to cool.

The towels were fluffy and, only the best quality, like everything else Mycroft owned. The official stole another kiss as they toweled one another off, then led them, still naked, into the bedroom. He opened a drawer and took out pyjamas, tossing Greg a pair of boxers, knowing how his lover liked to sleep.

Greg pulled them on and folded down the duvet before climbing into the massive bed. Mycroft looked for a moment like he might be wanting to check his mobile, but instead he shook his head and climbed in after him. Gently, Greg pulled him against his chest and stayed awake until he was certain his lover had fallen asleep.

Sometime, in the small hours of the morning, he was awakened by Mycroft jerking in his sleep. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen him with a nightmare, but this was the worst he’d seen since Sherlock had come back. He smoothed a hand up and down his side, being careful not to make  him feel trapped. Sometimes he thought something must have happened to Mycroft long ago in the field because he really hated being confined.

Finally Mycroft’s blue eyes fluttered opened. Greg gave him a small smile, holding his breath. Either he would want to talk about it, or he’d roll over. And this time he rolled over. Wide awake, though. Greg got up and fetched a glass of water, bringing it to him. Mycroft took it silently while Greg walked to the window. It was near dawn and he could see a path leading down to a half-frozen lake. Walking to the dresser he pulled out clothes and tossed them at Mycroft, hoping he’d take the hint and join him for an early morning walk.

Before long they were both dressed and bundled up against the cold. Greg had a feeling there were servants around, so he didn’t know how public he could be with Mycroft here, but the man took his arm and leaned on him slightly as they walked through the dusting of snow.

The lake was calm. Greg dusted snow off a bench at the end of the path and sat next to his lover, putting an arm around him. They watched the sun come up, and not for the first time, Greg wondered what it would be like if he could be with Mycroft all the time, just like this. Enjoying those precious moments. Mycroft leaned in and kissed him tenderly. _Thank you_ , he meant but didn’t say. Greg happily kissed him back. _You’re welcome._

As the sun rose higher, the chill started seeping in. Greg stretched stiff bones and got up, offering Mycroft a hand. They walked back up to the cabin and took off their coats and Mycroft made some attempt to fix Greg’s hair before they walked into the kitchen. They returned to the kitchen and found a full, hot breakfast waiting for them, with tea for Mycroft, and coffee for Greg, as well as the days newspapers. Greg watched Mycroft glance the papers over, but if there was anything of import, he didn't share it with Greg. When they finished eating they went back to the cozy front room. Greg picked out a book while Mycroft retrieved his mobile.

Greg's mind was more on the man next to him than the words on the page. Mycroft kept his face carefully neutral, for the most part, no doubt aware of Greg's watchfulness, but eventually that tell-tale worry line started to crease his forehead. Greg took that as his cue and put the book aside, plucking the mobile from his hands and leaning in to kiss him.

Mycroft sighed and looked up at him, blue eyes unreadable. "Let's take a walk," said Greg, tugging him to his feet. Mycroft rolled his eyes but he went for his coat. Greg stepped into the kitchen and found a woman working on what would probably be dinner. She looked a bit surprised and started to apologize, but Greg cut her off with a smile. "No, no, it's good to know

this place isn't staffed by elves. Could we have some cold sandwiches for lunch? We're going to take a walk." She nodded and in a few minutes he returned to Mycroft's side with a bag of sandwiches and a thermos of tea. Mycroft made sure his scarf was snug and they headed back out to the lake path.

The day had grown warmer, but snow still clung in the shadows. The winter sun stared down at them, refusing to give up much warmth. The path turned away from the lake after a while and into the woods. Greg wondered how often Mycroft came out here. He doubted they were well and truly alone. A man like Mycroft had to be too careful about things like that.

The path meandered slowly upward. After perhaps a couple miles walk they crested a hill and Greg was startled by the view. They did look like they were in the middle of nowhere, with the smoke of the cabin curling lazily below them and nothing but lake and trees for miles. There was another bench and Mycroft took a seat, pouring the tea while Greg took out the sandwiches. They ate in silence, again. Greg was used to that, and he knew one of the things that Mycroft appreciated about him was that he let him have his silences. God knows Sherlock probably never gave them to him. He saw some deer dart across the lawn below them. This place must be lush and green in the summertime, but right now it all felt a bit barren. Greg reached over and squeezed Mycroft's knee. His lover leaned slightly against him, still eating his sandwich. In some things Mycroft could never be rushed.

When they finally finished, Mycroft stood, walking forward a few steps to take in the view. Greg finished screwing the lid on the thermos and waited until he turned around, giving him another smile.

Mycroft took his arm again as they headed back towards the cabin. Greg loosened his scarf as the temperature finally started to rise with the afternoon. To his surprise, Mycroft drew him in for a soft kiss when they were still shielded by the woods. Greg rested his hands on Mycroft’s hips and returned it, feeling like perhaps he'd helped lift the cloud from him, though it still clung a bit in the shadows of his eyes.

Mycroft's hand ran through Greg's short hair. Greg sighed softly, leaning into the touch. After the stolen moment had passed, Mycroft stepped back, giving him a small smile before leading the way back to the house.

As they shed coats and scarves, Greg hooked his arms around Mycroft's waist, kissing the side of his neck. Mycroft's eyes closed as he leaned back against him. Greg smoothed his hands along his stomach before nipping his ear. "Did you want to go back to the bedroom before we have dinner?"

Mycroft nodded and they made their way back to the large bed. He toed off his shoes but kept his clothes on as he climbed into bed. Greg smiled and climbed in after him. "It's all right, you can nap. I know you didn't sleep much last night."

Mycroft curled up with his head on Greg's chest and was soon snoring softly. Greg kissed the top of his head and reached for a book on the end table, content to simply hold him for a while.

An hour or so later, the smell of dinner wafted in from the kitchen, Mycroft stirred. Greg kissed him as he stretched out the stiffness. He cupped Greg’s cheek a moment, then rolled out of bed, going to the mirror in the closet to check his appearance. Greg smiled and enjoyed the view as he fixed his hair and bent to tie his shoes back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to type_40_consulting_detective and DmonicSymphony


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner was delicious, of course. Always the best for Mycroft. And the fine wine. Greg was pretty sure that it was impossible for Mycroft to pick out a bad wine. They sat at the table even after dinner was over and polished off most of the bottle before heading back to sit in front of the fire. Mycroft sat in Greg’s lap and watched the flames, sipping the last of his wine.

A mobile chirp interrupted them.

Mycroft started, then sighed and put down his glass, retrieving his phone. He frowned at whatever he saw and took the mobile into another part of the cabin, no doubt to make a call he didn’t want Greg to hear. Watching him go, Greg finished off his own glass

It was only a few minutes later when soft footsteps heralded Mycroft’s return. Any admonition he might have been considering went right out of his head when he saw how pale his lover was. Greg was on his feet in a moment, strong arms wrapping around his waist. Mycroft swallowed once, twice, then rest his head on Greg’s shoulder and took a shuddering breath. Now Greg really was worried, helping him to a seat.

He sat on the arm of the chair, rubbing Mycroft’s back, silently willing him just talk. He wondered if he should go find more wine, but he really didn’t want to leave him alone right now. Mycroft licked his lips. “A certain mission went quite wrong,” he said with the same tone one might use to discuss bad weather. “We had expected some casualties, but not the entire team.”

Greg’s hand stilled. Mycroft was doing his best to keep his features under careful control, but there was trembling underneath. Getting up, Greg did go retrieve the bottle of wine and topped off their glasses. He placed Mycroft’s in his hand before sitting at his feet and rubbing his knee. “I’m sorry.”

Mycroft didn’t respond at first, simply looked into his glass of wine a long moment before downing it. Greg wondered if they had anything stronger around here. Mycroft got to his feet and made his way to cabinet, pulling out some scotch. He poured them each a glass. “They were good people,” he said quietly.

“I’m sure,” said Greg, raising his glass in a toast.

Tapping his glass to Greg’s, Mycroft downed most of it. “I knew when I picked you up that nearly everyone had been killed. I just recieved a message that the one survivor sucummed to her injuries.”

Greg reached up and cupped his cheek. Mycroft couldn’t talk about his work, he knew that. For all he knew the mission could have been anything from toppling a foreign government to stealing a priceless artifact to a particularly dangerous daycare for the children of dictators. Not a laughing matter, he knew, not with the pain in Mycroft’s eyes as he started to reach for more scotch. Greg caught his hand.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow as he looked at him. Greg pushed him back into his chair and climbed into his lap. “You’re a good man,” he said quietly, meeting his eyes.

Blushing a bit, Mycroft looked away. “I am a man who does what is necessary. That does not make me good.”

Greg leaned in and kissed his throat, dragging his teeth along the pale skin. Despite himself, Mycroft’s cock twitched in his trousers. “Gregory,” he muttered.

“You brought me out here to distract you, yes?” Greg licked the hollow of his throat.

“Yes,” admitted Mycroft.

“Then let me do so.” Greg raised his head and kissed Mycroft’s lips.

Mycroft wrapped his arms around Greg’s waist and toppled them back down onto the rug. Plundering his mouth, Greg could taste the scotch on his tongue. Nimble fingers opened his shirt and tugged it free of his jeans. To Greg’s surprise he found his hands being tied above his head. He opened his eyes to watch Mycroft, not fighting it, simply letting him do what he wanted. Mycroft kissed him again, then pulled him to his feet. “Bedroom.”

Greg didn’t have to be told twice. Keeping his hands behind his head, he walked the short distance, then let himself be pushed on to the bed. Mycroft got his jeans and pants off, putting him where he wanted. Greg could be completely patient when Mycroft needed him to be, and this was one of those times. Mycroft quickly stripped himself and climbed up after him, straddling his waist and fingering himself.

Breath catching, Greg watched as those elegant fingers worked him open. Mycroft’s eyes had closed, his breath short and softly moaning. Greg’s cock was full and weeping, aching to be touched. Finally his lover shifted forward and guided his cock inside.

They moaned together at the sensation. Greg kept his hands above his head, watching Mycroft. He planted his hands on Greg’s chest, rocking deeper and deeper until he was fully seated, only to rise up and drop down again, slowly at first as he adjusted, but then harder and faster until Greg’s eyes screwed shut.

“My-” He tried to give warning, but then he was coming, filling him, moaning louder as Mycroft rode him through it. Greg opened his eyes again as Mycroft slid off of him, moving forward, pressing his cock to his lips. He opened his mouth, tongue darting out to lick a bead of pre-come from the tip. Mycroft slid his cock into his mouth and grabbed the headboard. Greg eagerly sucked his lover as he fucked his mouth.

Mycroft’s fingers grabbed his short hair. Greg opened his throat, wanting to take all of him. A few more thrusts and he was coming, hot, nearly choking, but Greg swallowed it down. Carefully, Mycroft withdrew his cock and slid down until he could rest his head on his chest. Greg tugged his wrists free and wrapped an arm around him, kissing the top of his head. He knew Mycroft’s work wasn’t easy, but he’d be here for him, no matter what he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
